I knew you were trouble when you walked in
by iandyourghost
Summary: Sasuke gets sick, Naruto gets hurt a lot, and a great deal of property damage occurs. Sasunaru.


**A/N**: Have some fluff to commemorate Sasuke-comes-back becoming canon!

**Disclaimer**: NOPE.

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It's 11:00 a.m. on a Monday. Sasuke is home sick, and his living room window has just been broken from the outside.

"What is that."

"It's soup. Ginseng soup." Naruto's face is a cool mask of composure, not unlike a general announcing a declaration of war.

Sasuke stares at the bowl in his lap. The soup may or may not have stared back. The draft from the window sends a breeze through the room, ruffling the tissues scattered on the floor, the forlorn remains of his favorite houseplant.

"Do you need me to feed you?" Naruto asks, whips out a spoon from his back pocket- _good God_- and Sasuke forlornly considers justifiable suicide.  
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"For a sick person, you have amazing aim," Naruto comments, offhandedly, sitting on the ground gingerly pulling sticky shards of orange juice soaked glass out of his hair and dropping it into the growing mass of destruction that used to be Sasuke's pristine living room floor- also an unfortunate final resting place to half his kitchen cabinet, most of his living room, and Naruto's Soup from the Bog.

"Thanks. Now go away."

"No."

Sasuke unburies his head far enough from his pillow- the only survivor- and sends a heartfelt glare at Naruto's stupid, currently orange head. "_Why_."

"Because you're sick. And you've successfully run off any other person who might take care of you. So. Here I am." Naruto heaves himself up, dusts his pants off, and ambles towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make some more soup."

Sasuke chucks his final pillow at his retreating form.  
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"No swelling," Sakura notes with satisfaction, cool well-manicured fingers placed against his throat, probing gently. "And your fever's down to the double digits. Any dizziness?"

"No."

"Nose?"

"..." She pulls her hands from his throat and presses them firmly into the sides of his nose, applying eye-watering pressure.

"Does anything new hurt?"

"...Just my throat."

She scoffs, digs her fingers into his face, "considering all the yelling you're doing at Naruto, that doesn't come as a surprise at all."

"..."

"No, seriously though," she says, now rotating her thumb gently across the bridge of his nose. "He's here because he cares. And over 75% of the damage to your house you did yourself. What's your problem?"

Sasuke hunches his back sulkily, drawing himself away from her hands. She pulls them back, tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear again, all business. "I'll come back to check up on you again. Drink Naruto's soup- it's vile, but it'll work. He went to half the medicine doctors in the village to figure out what to put in it. Okay?"

She's already closed the door quietly behind her when he finally pulls his head out from his blankets again, taking in a surprised breath through his now-clear nose.  
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Sasuke is awakened to the sound of the tumblers in his lock opening.

"Hey, you still alive? I'm back. Brought you stuff." Naruto calls into the room, toeing off his sandals, leaning on the archway as he bends down to pull them the rest of the way off, the afternoon sun streaming from behind him into Sasuke's brooding bat cave of perpetual darkness so Sasuke has to squint to look at Naruto. The sun lights up Naruto's hair like a halo, and it's so quotidian, so _normal_.

Maybe it's his stupid fever acting up, but Sasuke to has grit his teeth at the sudden stinging in the backs of his eyes. He palms the weapons he'd slipped between the couch mattresses when Naruto left, and takes decisive aim.

"Hey- _Jesus Christ_." Naruto yelps, hopping away gingerly from the kunai now stuck, quivering, to Sasuke's floor. It's the first real weapon Sasuke's thrown. "What the hell, Sasuke? Has the fever finally addled your brain? God I got to call Sakura-"

"Just go away. Naruto."

"This again? I already told you. I can't! Not until you're better." Naruto drops his bags and crosses the room, his expression dark, those beautiful blue eyes dark like a cloud passing overhead. "Seriously, you freak, why are you fighting me?"

Sasuke scowls and scrunches his eyes up, not daring to look up. See Naruto standing there, all worried and gentle and sickeningly homey. Like he actually gave a damn- like anyone gave a damn about the greatest traitor to Konoha since his forefather himself dragged his battered body through those hallowed gates and back out into the unforgiving wilderness.

"You can't-" He clenches his fists in his blankets, resists the urge to pull them over his head like a child. "I can't play house with you. I can't wish you good night, I can't make you soup when you're sick. I_ can't be what you want,_ I."

Naruto cuts him off, voice high with incredulity. "Wait, seriously? Is that it?"

"What do you mean is that it-"

"All this time, you stupid bastard, and you were just having some stupid girl crisis? Jeez, what am I going to do with you?"

Sasuke gamely resists the urge to attack, claw off that stupid, obtuse smile on Naruto's face like he's got Sasuke all figured out, like he's looking right through him, like he _understands_, that bastard. He's about to do it, too, inches his fingers under his pillow where he's got his other kunai stashed but all Naruto has to say, says, "_Sasuke_" and it's the end of the world. Really it is.

Naruto leans in close, reaches out one big, warm hand rests it on the nape of his neck, cards gently through his sweaty hair and Sasuke can smell him from here, clean, warm skin, gentle like the forest in summer, cheap detergent overlaid with that stupid herbal medicine crap- saffron and ginseng, myrrh leaves, an afternoon spent in countless dusty stores.

"It'll be all right, you big idiot." Naruto presses his lips to Sasuke's forehead, like Sasuke's five years old again, voice a soft, rumbling murmur the tide coming in, and maybe Sasuke digs his chin into Naruto's collarbone, breathes him in, maybe he says some stupid things like _I'm sorry_, or _it's always been you_ maybe even _don't ever leave_. Outside, somewhere, a bird takes flight, unfurling its wings angling out through the mid-afternoon sun towards the shore. Homeward bound.

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**FIN.**


End file.
